Retreat to Spirit

In which, 'Are you my sister?' get's a reprise, and I ponder some wisdom from an email from 2010.

In gratitude to my tiny friends for snuggling on the couch and asking me to read them books. Gratitude for babies that fall asleep at restaurants. Late night phone calls from different timezones. And ice cream.

Scroll to the bottom for a Josie update.

August 12, 2025

Dear Mama, 

This morning I woke up to the feeling of a memory — a whisper of “Laki… Laki-lou,” and a gentle caress of your hand on my head, palm gently tracing from forehead to ear. These are the memories I am trying to let go of, just in case they are holding you back from letting go. But these are also the memories I’m trying to hold on to — so I can write them down in a way that will be secure enough for me to come back to, and rest my head against. 

I don’t miss you every day anymore. It comes in waves. Some days it is calm, and on other days, it feels like there’s a raging storm that only I can see. 

But I still have the occasional urge to tell you things. New things, noteworthy things, silly things, as if it is only real when shared with you. 

A list of things to tell you: 

1: I am staying at a farm in Italy that is biking distance from the beach. You would love the breakfast: yoghurt, granola, fresh fruit. The table I sit at faces the cows. You would love them too, and be taking a million photos of them. I take a few, just for you. 

2: I found artichoke ravioli in the supermarket!

3: I got laid off. 

4: I went on my own sort of retreat to spirit. And picked ollalieberries!

5: I’m making new friends. 

Sorry I haven't written in a while.

LOVE LOVE,

L

April 2010: Email from Josie to Laki: 

I move forward each year with radical trust, patience, and enthusiasm...you and Gayti will always have many opportunities and choices surrounding you, because you are both creative, resourceful, energetic, and passionate about what you do...you are also both restless and see opportunities everywhere...this serves you and frustrates you and then confuses you...find your passion...trust in the unknown...appreciate the familiar and make your experiences a foot long and a mile deep rather than a mile long and a foot deep...you know I never tell you what to do!...so think some more...make some lists...and sit on two different pillows and imagine one choice on one pillow and the other choice on the other pillow...instead of thinking about it, see how each one FEELS...then write quickly the feelings that you experienced...your answers are inside you...many around you will have advice...go within...LOVE YOU and MISS YOU, mom

From the instructions section with a handout on what to pack for the 'retreat to spirit':

Journal. The reason for keeping a journal is so that you can recognize your own continued growth, long after you return. The insights that come during your participation in the vision quest are invaluable. A keystone of the human learning process is the ability of the student to reflect, to obtain meaningful feedback from past experience. 

Retreat to Spirit 8-95, Josie  

We’re on our way:

Aleta, Jan, Mary Lou, Josie, Kacy, Sharon, Elizabeth

“We drive a couple of hours.. Stop for a pee break.. None of us have had breakfast.. We’re envisioning lattes.. We find at the turnoff of 26 “Country Charm” Cafe and Deli. They asked which church camp we were going to.. We said ‘our own’.. Mega veggie sandwich.. Chamomile tea and milk..

We arrive at Earth Nest, renamed Rammed Earth (packed clay-like dirt for building). The woman who owns the land is Janice. There are 90 acres. She has workshops and retreats there. Here we are. It’s beautiful. A meadow. A BBQ pit. A tent over eight picnic tables. Bathrooms with showers and toilets and running water. Beautifully made of earth and wood. A huge corral with horses. Two old dogs. Janice comes walking down the road. Sharon introduces us and we shake hands one by one. As we shake hands and I say my name is ’Josie’ we look at each other. She says, “you look familiar.” I said “So do you.” We wonder where or how or when… she said: “I was married to David Easton… for 17 years. We had four kids. “Oh my gosh,” I said as we hugged. I’m Izzy’s sister. And we both cried. We agreed to talk on Sunday, after our retreat. We were both shaken. At dinner she brought me a picture of Izzy and Davy on the raft crossing oars and smiling. They were on the Pescadero Creek just before the ocean. The film had been rescued from the raft’s zipper pocket. 

After lunch we headed down the path with our two gallons of water to find a space to be for the next two days. I decided not to cross the river with a backpack on. I only had one pair of shoes. There was a place where the river was joined by another. Guru called it a ‘Prayag.’ A sacred space where two rivers join. Often there will be a temple built there. I found a space a little further down with grass and trees on a slight hill. I spent some time there and many creatures visited. Many memories rushed through me like the rapids over the rocks. 

Before we walked back together we each chose two angel cards. Mine were spontaneity and peace. We walked back to the base camp together. We all added vegetables we had brought to make a big pot of ‘Stone Soup.’ It bubbled and smelled delicious. While it cooked we made prayer arrows from sticks we had gathered. We asked questions and made comments about our search for sacred space. Sharon and Elizabeth spoke to us about our coming two days and nights alone in our spaces. I respect their sense of diversity about each one’s relationship spirit and the integrity that they encourage us with, to find something simple for ourselves. Let it happen without expectation. 

After a delicious dinner of soup and bread we all put our sleeping bags together on a tarp at the edge of a meadow. The stars were brilliant and twinkly and formed so many patterns and designs. In spite of an uncomfortable pad, I slept pretty well. Turning over once, I saw a shooting star. 

We reluctantly wake at dawn and pack our backpacks to leave for our sacred space. We gather in a circle around an altar that Elizabeth and Sharon have made. They sage each one. We take our prayer sticks and some Indian corn. They sing a song to us.

While they sing, two of the horses are galloping and neighing and running back and forth around their pen. As I walk away, I start to cry. My backpack feels good and secure on my back. I walk at a slow pace. I’m crying. I’m not sure why so I just let the tears come. This retreat is such a gift. I almost didn’t make it. Seeing Janice and realizing who was, made me remember how alone I felt after Izzy died. How afraid I was to live without her love, companionship, guidance and good times. I’m arriving at my space. I’m shaking a little from crying so I build an altar and surround my space with beautiful sticks I find nearby.

With my altar created I light the candle, burn four leaves of sage, burn some sweet grass, lay out my tarp and sleeping bag and then sit in my sacred home. My ‘earth nest.’ I feel at peace.  Sit for a long time, breathing in the clean air and the sounds of the river — roaring, rushing and gurgling. The first warmth of morning sun. The sounds of the birds. I am so thankful to be alive. And healthy and loved. And alone.

Today, after building my ‘home’ I went exploring. First I stopped off at the small bridge over the ditch where a steady stream of water flowed. I placed a stone where Kacy had created an altar. It was our way of checking in with each other. She placed a stone in the afternoon and I placed one in the morning. It was so simple and beautiful the way she arranged the rocks with a baby cedar sampling right in the middle. Then I took off on my exploration along a narrow path with the ditch on one side and the river down the hill on the other. I love the forest. Yellow butter cups, purples thistle flowers. Soft to the touch on a bristly spiny stalk. Tall, tall, trees, oaks, cedars, firs, leafy ones I don’t know the names of. Huge fallen trees where fungus and bugs and animals make homes. Always the sound of the river and the birds. As I approached a wire and wood blocking the path, there was a viewpoint and a great blue heron flew from an island of rocks in the river to the trees ahead. I waited there a while to see if it would return. To my right I noticed a red-earth road-like path uphill. Since the heron did not return I decided to explore some more. The climb was tiring so I stopped frequently. Especially enjoying a huge cedar log covered with moss and flattened so it was very comfortable. Above was a huge cedar trunk hanging over and giving some shade. I continued on the path. IT was getting narrower and warmer. Lots of tall long-needled pines and hundreds of manzanita and oaks. I seemed to be at the top. I found shade and drank lots of water and had some cherry-mint cough drops. A little ways down I found a great looking goddess cone and found some ‘Acorn Boobs’ for her. I turned around and headed back. I picked up a jay feather. At the resting place I had left a small soft downy feather that was reddish-brown at the top. Maybe a hawk. It made a lovely headdress. I left her with the cedar log and walked back to the point I had seen the heron. 

I laid down with my emergency pack as my pillow and fell asleep. I woke feeling rested and peaceful. I talked to Izzy. I cried some. I said goodbye to her and told her I would love her forever and she was always with me. I sat on a big log overlooking the creek. I sat there a long time watching the river. I chose an angel card. It was ‘freedom.’ Yes!

…

I noticed the beautiful ferns and moss. How many shades of green there were. It was hot when I got back ‘home.’ I noticed some various colored lichen, a pair of acorns, some small pieces of bark with swirly lines on them. I got inspired to make a goddess with all this material and the two sticks I had brought back from my lookout place. I remembered the thread I had put in my emergency pack. I guess this was an emergency. A creative idea with no way to put it together! 

After creating her, I wrote some more. On my way down to the river I noticed a couple of ladybugs so I sat down to watch them. Then I noticed many ladybugs crawling under the bark of this log. Then I noticed some on my boots and I stood up. I had sat in the middle of hundreds of ladybugs. I was awed.. And apologized for sitting on them.        

I packed my pack. Took apart my altar. I put all the sticks back in various places that had surrounded my sacred space. My ‘earth nest’. I was so thankful for the safety and protection I had felt in my “home.” I’m taking that feeling with me. I started up the hill. Holding rocks. My legs shaking. I found a sturdy, just right walking stick. And continued up the hill. Slowly, step by step. I made it to the check-in point. I turned to face the sun. My heart was pounding. My legs shaking. I heard voices. Mary Lou, Aleta and Jan were coming up the hill. They looked radiant to me. We greeted each other like a lost friends reunion. I told them how shaky I felt.

One said, “You look strong and beautiful!” I wanted to fall into one of their arms. I prayed for strength and endurance up the rest of the hill. Mary Lou carried my empty water bottles. She and Aleta went on ahead. Jan walked as slowly as I was walking. I couldn’t talk much because every breath seemed precious. That sturdy, right size, walking stick was such a support. My pounding heart scared me. I wanted to see my children again. I rested frequently. We passed the horses and when I looked up I saw the tent canopy over picnic tables. The ground was now more level and I knew I had made it. I unloaded my pack and stepped into the same sacred circle that we had come from. Sharon and Elizabeth saged us. We went over to the tables to eat breakfast. To break our fast. I heard Sharon say “you really accomplished something great.” And something about “strength” And I started to choke on whatever piece of fruit I was eating. I made some toning sounds and went back to the sacred circle area and sat there and cried. It was such a relief to know I had lived through all that joy and fear. 

I was so hungry. I came back to the table and ate a peach, some cantaloupe, some oatmeal, granola and rice dream. After eating we washed up, changed our clothes and met back in a circle. Here we spent the next four hours telling each other our stories one at a time. Of our adventures, our experience on our retreat to spirit.

We reflect each other's experiences as though we were mirrors to one another.

Afterwards I had a chance to speak to Janice. I asked her about Davy. I had an overwhelming sense on my retreat that he had never grieved Izzy. I asked first, because they had met right after Izzy. I asked Janice if it was difficult to be with him at first, because they met right after Izzy had drowned. She hesitated and said, 

"David said that it didn’t matter that much anyway… he didn’t know how to get out of that relationship anyway because she was so dependent on him."

We sat there silent. I said, “you know that is just not true about her."

"She was in love with another man also at that time and she and I were getting ready to go to Illinois to take care of my mom. After that we thought we’d live together for a while." 

We talked a little while longer and my friends cleaned up. It was 100 degrees. Janice invited us for a swim in her pool. We hugged. What a healing. A circle come round. A gift.  

We stopped down the road on our way out, for a swim. Cool water. Naked bodies. Hot sun. Then we began the long drive back home. Wet hair, refreshed, returning home. Not the same as when we arrived. 

…

The rest of the book has photos from my mother’s altar, hand-written Mary Oliver poems and the photo of Izzy and Davy that Janice gave to my mom.

July-August 2025, Laki

Dear Mama,

After reading your retreat to spirit, I called up Aleta to see if she had any memories of that time you all went together. She didn't have many specific memories to share, but at one point she said, something like, "you know, you told her that you were her sister." Apparently, when I still nursing, and barely talking I told you that I was Izzy.

I have no recollection of this. And then I wonder if I am some kind of reincarnation? Do I believe in this, I'm not sure. And yes, of course.

I asked Peter, my honorary uncle and the man aunt Izzy dated in high school, college, and after: "Do Izzy and I have any of the same characteristics?"

He said: "You are both cute, charming, humble, sensitive, curious, creative, caring, have a good, often self-deprecating, sense of humor, intelligent, put others above yourselves, not into spectator sports, drawn to the marginalized, generous, fun to be around, a loyal friend and each have your own unique and somewhat eclectic form of personal spirituality."

Adding that, "she was mostly introverted, subject to personal misgivings and periodic dark moods and a desire to see good in other people to the extent that she might somewhat naively give them the benefit of the doubt and then be disappointed or taken advantage of."

I'm almost embarrassed how much it feels like it describes me. I have more to tell you about my own retreat to spirit, some of my new friends and some of my life plans, but for now I need to bike to the beach one more time before I leave here.

Love love you,

xoxo L

This post is part of a series of essays called Josie's House. This is part of a larger work-in-progress-project I envision as a book. Previous essays can be found below.

1. New Beginning: In which I try to figure out how to tell people that the doctor at my mother's assisted living facility referred her to hospice care — meaning that based on her weight loss and decline, she is expected to be gone within six months.
2. Mom Rocks: In which I attempt to introduce my mother and this project.
3. 'Are You My Sister?': In which my Josie-mama thinks I am her sister and I find a letter my mother wrote to her sister after she died in my mother's arms.
4. Mandala's Tiles and Poetry: In which I go looking for tiles in India and re-discover my mother's love of mandalas and some poetry-letters she wrote after my grandmother died. 
5. A Purple-Infused 80th Birthday: In which I marvel at the passage of time, birthdays, and garden metaphors.
6. The Cottage and The Blue Couch: In which I share a draft of an essay about friendship, love, a cottage, and a blue couch.
7. Wearing Pantsuits to Church: Values Search: In which I look at my mother's values alongside my own.
8. A Dream Realized: Journey to India, 1979: In which I share a draft of an essay about my mother's first trip to India, and the next trip when she met my father. 
9. 'Cry Tests' & Journey to Peninsula School: In which I examine a piece of writing on how Josie got her dream job at Peninsula, thanks to the supportive community around her. 
10. Submerge!: In which I veer off from the aim of this newsletter and share an essay I wrote about my father's death. 
11. More Mandalas & Self-Acceptance Training: In which I take a deeper look into the self-acceptance work my mother did and also appreciate the beauty of a Korean spa and friendship.
12. Labyrinth: Portals to Love and Other Places: In which I write to my mother and read some poems she wrote in 1987. ‘What is the matter with aloneness anyway?’ she wrote in 1987.